


One More Dance

by flaming_muse



Category: Glee
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Night, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-12
Updated: 2013-09-12
Packaged: 2017-12-26 09:44:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/964477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Blaine get ready to leave their wedding reception.</p>
<p>so very fluffy futurefic, some season four spoilers, none beyond</p>
            </blockquote>





	One More Dance

**Author's Note:**

> We're blaming the pain meds I'm on for my broken foot for this one. Major sweetness ahead!

“Are you almost ready to go upstairs?” Kurt murmurs into Blaine’s ear as they sway together to the music.

“Mmm,” Blaine agrees, but he doesn’t open his eyes, just keeps Kurt close and moves with the music. They aren’t the only ones on the dance floor, though the live band finished their set long before and their wedding guests began to drift home over an hour ago, but it feels like they are. It feels like they’re on a cloud, dancing through the air, drifting on magic, just them and their love and the soft sounds of Glenn Miller.

Kurt laughs a little and rubs his cheek against Blaine’s. “Please don’t tell me you’re falling asleep. You didn’t drink _that_ much.”

“Just two glasses of wine,” Blaine agrees. “And I’m not tired. I’m happy.” So happy. So incredibly happy, like his heart is totally full, all of his usual nagging worries have vanished, and the world is swirling in soft focus around them. That last part might be the wine, but he’s pretty sure the rest isn’t.

“Good, because I have plans for you, Mr. Anderson-Hummel,” Kurt says, and just the name makes Blaine’s heart leap into his throat, because it’s his name now. It’s _their_ name now. “Plans that include you being awake and us taking full advantage of that enormous, beautiful shower in our suite.”

“Mmm,” Blaine says again, a little more throatily, because _yes_ , he has plans for them in that shower, too, and the huge bed with its high thread count sheets, and maybe even the balcony if no one overlooks it. Realistically, they’re probably only going to manage the shower - which is an absolute must, since Blaine is pretty sure he still has birdseed confetti in his hair from after the ceremony and he worked up a sweat dancing earlier, but it’s not like he could have turned down the offer to sing with Wes and Trent, especially not with the way Kurt’s face was lit up through the whole song - before they fall asleep together in post-orgasmic, post-wedding exhaustion after such a long and emotional day, but there’s always the morning.

Still, as much as being alone with Kurt sounds wonderful, as much as Blaine wants to get to kiss him and not need to stop, there’s something so wonderful about holding him in his arms, the fine fabric of his suit jacket under his hands and the music in their ears directing their bodies. “When this song is over.”

“Okay.” Kurt twirls him around the floor, and his voice dips into something soft and intimate, all too real. “And I’m happy, too, Blaine.”

Blaine pulls himself out the music and the dreamy clutch of his husband - husband! - and lifts his head to look Kurt in the eye. Kurt’s smiling at him, that special smile that’s only for him, the one where his eyes are bright and his mouth is curved a little bit unevenly, not one of his huge explosions of joy but something more personal, something to share only with a special few, this one only with Blaine.

Blaine’s heart lodges in his throat and makes it impossible for him to speak, but he smiles right back, like he could even stop himself, and they finish their dance together that way, watching each other’s faces, not holding any of their feelings back from each other.

Despite the fact that Kurt is leading this time, Blaine somehow manages to slide him into a dip as the song ends, and Kurt trusts him and goes with it like he doesn’t even need to think about it, holding the position for a graceful moment before pulling himself back up tall.

“A dip and everything; how romantic. Though you’d better not be planning to carry me across the threshold tonight, too,” Kurt tells him with a laugh, straightening his jacket. “That won’t end well for anyone.”

“Were you planning on carrying _me_?” Blaine asks. He finds he’s surprisingly okay with the idea, the thought of Kurt sweeping him up into his arms like they’re in a movie.

“I was _planning_ on us both _walking_ through the doorway,” Kurt says, “and then enjoying being alone with my new husband without either of us having any new doorjamb-induced bruises.”

Oh, that’s good, too. Blaine touches the vivid orange calla lily boutonniere on Kurt’s lapel, any excuse to drag his fingertips down _his_ new husband’s chest. “I love it when you plan ahead,” he says, his blood thrumming a little faster in his veins.

Kurt leans in and says with his voice full of promise, “I know you do.”

Sucking in a quick, excited breath and suddenly not sure that he’ll be too tired for more than one round upstairs, Blaine says, “I’m ready if you’re ready.”

The flirtation in Kurt’s eyes drops away, and instead he cups Blaine’s cheek, gives him a soft, open-mouthed kiss right there in the middle of the dance floor - not the first one of the night, but each one still feels like a gift to Blaine, their first married kisses so public and easy and free compared to their first private kisses so long ago when they started dating - and says, “I’ve been ready for you all my life, Mr. Anderson-Hummel.”

“Kurt - “ Blaine starts, though he doesn’t know where the sentence is going to go, only that his heart is threatening to burst from happiness, and he has to do _something_ with it.

Kurt just smiles at him, one of his giddy ones this time, like he’s bursting with joy, too, and says, “I’ll get the key from Rachel. Be right back.”

Blaine stands there at the edge of the dance floor - watching Mike spin Carole out, laughing at the end of his arm, watching Sam, Sugar, and Mercedes laugh at one of the tables, watching his mom talk to Mr. Schuester with her shoes casually kicked off beneath her chair - and wonders how this is his life. He wonders how he got so lucky. He wonders how somehow he and Kurt made it through different schools, different states, a horrible break-up, a difficult reconciliation, and a slow, shaky building of their life together to find himself here, in this absolutely stunning room, married to the man of his dreams, and surrounded by so many people who love him.

He doesn’t really care how he got here, actually; he only wishes there were someone to thank for it, because he’s really, really grateful.

“It looks good on you,” Tina says, coming up beside him and slipping her arm through his. Her wide skirt brushes against his legs and reminds him of so many competitions and dances together over the years. It’s a familiar, comfortable feeling, almost as good as a hug.

“The suit?” Blaine looks down at his impeccably tailored outfit. “Thank you. Kurt picked it out. I helped, but - “

“Oh, we _all_ knew Kurt was going to have his fingerprints on every detail of his wedding day,” Tina tells him with a laugh. She leans into him a little, and he leans happily back. “But I didn’t mean the suit. I meant being married. It looks good on you.”

“Thanks, Tina,” Blaine says, though he doesn’t feel all that different, really. Or maybe he does. His heart feels so at _peace_. He rubs the simple hammered gold band on his finger with his thumb and smiles a little. He can’t help it. He really is _married._. To _Kurt_. “It’s been a great day. It’s been perfect.”

Burts cuts in on Mike and sweeps Carole far less gracefully around the dance floor, Kurt puts his hands on his hips where he’s talking to Rachel by the gift table, Ryder plucks a flower out of one of the table arrangements and offers it to Brittany, Puck leans against the wall by the door and eats yet another piece of wedding cake, and somewhere behind Tina Cooper and Artie laugh together way too loudly.

Blaine doesn’t know how his heart can be this full, but as Kurt turns toward him with a little red gift bag in his hand and a roll of his eyes for Rachel, he just doesn’t know how to feel anything but happy.

Tina lifts up on her toes and kisses him on the cheek. “You look like you’ve gotten everything you’ve always wanted.”

Glancing back at her, he says with some wonder, “I think I have.”

“Don’t even ask why our room key is in a gift bag,” Kurt says as he joins them. “With breath mints and hand sanitizer.”

“I managed to keep Santana from putting condoms and lube in there, too,” Tina says. “You’re welcome.”

A lick of worry runs straight up Blaine’s spine like a cold finger. “Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to give Rachel the key to our room,” he realizes. Hadn’t he overheard Puck saying something about inflatable sheep? Oh, god. Those _aren’t_ for the kids to play with, are they.

“She said they just wanted to add a few special touches for us,” Kurt reminds him, his eyes going a little desperate. “She promised it would be in good taste.”

“Did _everyone_ promise that?” Tina asks, and Kurt’s shoulders slump.

“I may have gotten too swept up in the feelings of love and good will to have thought this through,” he says.

Tina slips away from Blaine’s side and gives Kurt a quick hug. “Don’t worry. I kept them all under control,” she says. “Even Puck.” She leans in closer to Kurt’s ear. “And _I_ put lube in the bedside stand. The kind you like, not the cheap stuff that smells like strawberry bubblegum.”

Kurt’s cheeks go pink with embarrassment, and Blaine can feel his own collar shrinking around his neck, but he reaches out for Kurt’s hand and says, “Thank you, Tina.” It is very thoughtful of her, after all, and there’s no such thing as too many bottles of lube.

“What are friends for?” She leans up on her toes to give them each a quick kiss on the cheek. “Happy wedding day, Misters Anderson-Hummel.”

Kurt’s hand goes tight on Blaine’s, almost painfully so, and Blaine squeezes right back. His new ring digs into his finger, and he doesn’t care. He doesn’t _care_ , because he’s _married_ , it’s his _wedding day_ , and it’s _real_.

It takes a little while for them to make their way around the room, thanking their guests and getting hugged and kissed in return until Blaine’s so giddy with with love that he isn’t sure he _isn’t_ drunk. If he feels a bit like he might cry, too, well, it’s only out of happiness, and it’s between him and the tissue Carole - his mother-in-law now - presses quietly into his hand while Kurt dabs at his own eyes and hugs his father one last time.

And then finally, hand-in-hand, Kurt and Blaine slip out the door, get in the elevator, and are alone. They stare at each other for a long moment, smiling, their fingers so entwined that when he glances down at them Blaine can’t tell which are his.

“I love you,” Blaine finally says to Kurt, to his _husband_ , because although there’s so much about the day to talk about and remember that’s really the most important thing.

Kurt bites his lip, and his smile goes huge and radiant.

The elevator dings, and Kurt leads him out into the hallway. “I love you, too,” he replies, walking backwards in front of him for a few steps before turning so they can find their room. Blaine follows behind, still holding his hand, and finds himself unable to stop smiling at the back of Kurt’s beautiful, broad shoulders. His to smile at, his to touch, officially his forever, his, his, his.

Kurt lets go of him when they reach their door so that he can pull out the card key. It’s in a pink tissue wrapper with a bow on it, which makes Kurt roll his eyes again as he starts to free it.

“I’m a little nervous,” Blaine says, watching Kurt’s long fingers unwind what seems like yards of tissue.

Kurt’s eyebrow quirks upwards, and he says with something of a smirk, “Are you? Do you need me to promise I’ll be gentle while you lie back and think of Lima?”

Blaine laughs and holds out his hand for the bag. “I’m nervous about the _room_ ,” he clarifies firmly. “And I’m not lying back and thinking of anything but _you_.”

Kurt frees the card with a triumphant sound, dumps both the bag and the tissue into Blaine’s hand, and says, “I will reward that sentiment with a kiss - or possibly more - but first we have to face what our friends might have done to our beautiful, expensive, formerly serene hotel suite.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Blaine says as Kurt’s hand hovers over the key slot but doesn’t dip the card inside.

Kurt just looks at him and silently reminds him who their friends _are_. Puck, Santana, Rachel, Sam... any of them could have good-naturedly done terrible, horrible, completely unappealing or offensive things to their room. Glittery streamers, dildo assortments, buckets’ worth of cloyingly aromatic flower petals on every surface, _inflatable sheep_...

“Okay, it can,” Blaine tells him, “but worse comes to worse we can push it all off to the corners of the room, shove anything inflatable into the closet, and tip housekeeping really well.”

There’s a second of thought, then Kurt is pressing a hard, hot kiss to Blaine’s mouth. “I made the best decision of my life when I married you,” he says quite seriously and then squares his jaw and opens the door to their room.

Blaine braces himself as they step inside, but they didn’t need to worry. There are no blow-up dolls arranged in unrealistic positions on the bed. There is no condom bouquet decorating the credenza. There is no basket of sex toys sitting on the bench by the window.

Instead there are fresh roses on the balcony table and flickering tea lights everywhere casting a romantic golden glow across the room. There’s soft music playing from an iPod speaker. There’s a plate of chocolate-dipped strawberries on the coffee table with a card signed with a simple heart. There are a few rose petals on their pillows. And there’s a tiny basket of Kurt’s favorite high end toiletries on the countertop outside of the bathroom.

None of it’s too much. None of it is sordid. It’s just a special room for a special night made extra special with love from their friends.

“It’s beautiful,” Blaine says, turning slowly in the middle of the room as Kurt inspects the toiletries with a smile. Everything in the room is elegant and romantic and utterly lovely.

“They even remembered my nighttime eye cream,” Kurt says. “And some gel for you.”

“Kurt,” Blaine says fondly. “There’s more to the room than just the products. Look, there are strawberries.” He gestures to the plate.

“You can have the strawberries if I can keep this seagrass cleanser. I’ve been wanting to try it.“

“Kurt!” Blaine laughs.

“Oh, fine, I did promise to endow you with all my worldly goods. We can share.” Kurt puts the little bottle back and looks up at him. The smile on Kurt’s mouth falls away, though, and he stills, seems caught for a moment, his eyes wide and unguarded. He looks lost, captivated, and vulnerable, even more impossibly handsome in the candlelight than he had earlier in the day when they exchanged rings in front of everyone they love.

“Are you okay?”

Kurt inhales slowly, still staring at him. “I’m so far beyond okay I can’t even see it in the rearview mirror,” he says softly. Then he squares his shoulders and walks toward Blaine. He holds out a hand. “Come here?”

Blaine expects to be drawn into a kiss, and he’s more than happy to do so, but instead Kurt gently pulls him into his arms to dance again, just barely moving across the pale carpet with the music playing around them.

“Kurt?” Blaine asks quietly as Kurt’s arms come up his back and hold him close, chest to chest, cheek to cheek.

“You take my breath away, Mr. Anderson-Hummel,” Kurt replies in a murmur.

“I know how you feel, Mr. Anderson-Hummel,” Blaine manages to say around the lump in his throat. He nuzzles against Kurt’s hair, breathes in the smell of him, the smell that means home and safety and love in a way that nothing else in the world ever has.

“One more dance before that shower? Please?” Kurt presses a kiss to Blaine’s jaw but otherwise holds him so tenderly. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Blaine’s breath catches in his chest, and he closes his eyes and buries his nose in Kurt’s hair again. “I’ll never be done with you.”

“And it’s official now,” Kurt whispers.

Not quite able to speak, Blaine nods against his cheek. It’s _official_.

The shower can wait. The strawberries can wait. _Everything_ can wait. He’s dancing with his husband. He’s dancing with Kurt.

Blaine squeezes his eyes tightly shut to keep everything he’s feeling inside so he doesn’t lose a drop of it and lets himself get swept up in the music, the candlelight, and one more dance to mark the first night of the rest of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> I am UNSPOILED for the upcoming season and would like to remain that way. Please do not spoil me for anything!


End file.
